Skipping over asphalt islands

When it rains in Suva the roads become rivers and we skip over the asphalt islands that are left above the surface. Flip flops spatter mud up the backs of our bare legs. The air is thick with the exhaust of local buses and all along the roadside grows cassava, bele (spinach leaves) and dalo (taro root). Pairs of small children twirl coloured golf umbrellas to mark the school crossing. Taxi drivers lean out their window to offer you a ride. Strings of laundry adorn the house fronts and mounds of rubbish are set alight.